


Running Home

by NukaWorldNora



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: BDSM, Cullen Rutherford Smut, Drunk Sex, F/M, Femdom, Fluff, Healthy kink negotiation, Heavy BDSM, Idiots in Love, Platonic BDSM, Porn With Plot, Shameless Smut, Unhealthy Kink (past), barely, because not all kink is edgy, but like it's fun not angsty, consent is important, dominant Inquisitor, submissive cullen rutherford, with platonic in heavy quotation marks
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-20
Updated: 2020-06-26
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:28:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24815335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NukaWorldNora/pseuds/NukaWorldNora
Summary: Helena Trevelyan had no idea what she was getting into with a drunken night of sex with the Inquisition's Commander, but she finds that she likes it a lot. Cullen needed someone to take control for even a few moments, between the control he must maintain for his duties to the Inquisition and for his lyrium addiction recovery, and Helena is more than happy to take the reigns. They insist it's purely platonic, but is that actually what's going on?
Relationships: Cullen Rutherford/Female Trevelyan, Female Inquisitor/Cullen Rutherford
Comments: 19
Kudos: 44





	1. When the Day Met the Night

**Author's Note:**

> This wonderful idea came into my head after seeing one too many "Dark Cullen BDSM" fics. My own experiences with kink aren't angsty or edgy, they're fun, so that's what I'm trying to capture here. And I inverted the normal dynamic because I wanted to. Plus, who doesn't like the image of Cullen on his knees for a pretty woman?
> 
> Fic Title is based on the song by The Exchange, and chapter title is based on the song by Panic At The Disco.

The first time Helena Trevelyan fell into bed with Cullen Rutherford was while they were still at Haven. They had been drinking, all of her friends and companions. Maybe it had been unwise, but the drunk are generally not known for their wisdom.

When the party broke up, Helena hadn't wanted to go back to her little cabin alone, and Cullen didn't say no when she asked. She'd hardly been alone since the day she woke up in chains with the anchor on her hand. She hadn't even intended on sleeping with him when she asked him to join her, but the way he kissed her the second her door was closed made her weak in the knees and she had no intention of putting a stop to it.

He broke the kiss to tug on her earlobe with his teeth. She reached up and threaded her fingers in his hair to pull his lips back to hers. He begged in whispers right next to her ear, for her to let him call her Mistress. She gushed between her thighs and pulled him more forcefully to her lips and the moan he let out went straight to her core. She wouldn't deny him what he asked, couldn’t if she tried. Maker knew that she didn't want to try.

His fingers fumbled over the buttons of her top as he kissed her, alcohol thick in his veins making his fingers miss their mark. It was her own impatience that led her to bat his hands away to do it herself. He made a keening noise that also went straight to her core. Her mind was sluggish from the ale, but she wanted to hear him make it again.

“Do you want to be a good boy for Mistress?” she teased as she worked slowly on the buttons. His eyes were glued to the expanse of skin that was revealed with each newly freed buttonhole.

"So good, so, so good," he babbled. "Please, Mistress, I-" he cut himself off with a moan.

"Tell me what you want," she purred, and he groaned, heavy with lust.

"To taste you, Mistress," he said with a heavy rasp to his voice. "Please, please." He sucked in a breath at the last button when she let each half of her shirt front hang loose.

"Well I suppose you've been a good boy," she said. She tugged the collar over her shoulders and down her arms, and let her shirt fall to the ground. Cullen didn't hesitate a moment and surged forward to latch on to a freed nipple and suck.

Helena's recollection became blurry after that, though she was relatively certain she recalled him eagerly lapping at her pussy until she screamed his name. She couldn’t be completely sure, though.

The only thing she could be sure of was Cullen. She woke the next morning with him in her bed, naked and holding her as if she were a teddy bear. It was endearing, actually, but what really had her attention was his hard length against her thigh. He hadn't stirred, so it was likely just morning wood. Part of her hoped he'd be agreeable for another round if she stayed in bed, but her head pounded terribly and she needed to measure out some of the hangover cure that Adan made for her when Iron Bull and his Chargers got to Haven. She would even be kind and measure a dose for Cullen too.

She had only just put away the bottle and started to wish she had a kitchen in her little hut when she heard stirring from her bed. She couldn’t help the smile that formed on her face as she brought the potion over.

Cullen had sat up and was holding his head. She wasn't really surprised to see him in that much pain. He had gotten drunker than she had and she was a light-weight. He hadn't really looked at her, but that didn’t bother her. He looked like he was busy pretending the sun didn't exist.

“Here, for your head,” she said. He blindly grabbed for it and she took pity on him and guided his hand around the small glass. Eyes still closed, he sniffed it and made a face, but still downed the liquid in one go like a shot.

“Thank you. It already feels better,” he said. The furrow of his brow lessened, though the sun was still his mortal enemy as he held his eyes closed. “I’m afraid I don’t do this often. I’m not sure what the protocol is for a walk of shame.”

“It’s only shameful if you let it be,” Helena joked, and Cullen laughed.

“Probably still awkward,” he said. “With my, ahem, unusual proclivities.”

“Wasn’t so bad,” she assured him. “I had fun. Water?” She knew how bitter Adan’s hangover cure was. It was effective, sure, though it left a sour taste on one’s tongue.

“Please.” He opened his eyes to accept the cup and nearly dropped it. “Oh, uh, Herald. I- I supposed I was drunker than I realized.”

“I hope that’s not a problem,” she teased with a grin. He didn’t look at her, not in the eyes. He put the water cup down on her bedside table and moved to get dressed.

“I apologize, Trevelyan. This was a mistake,” he said. She could feel the blood drain out of her face as her smile fell off. A mistake. She was a mistake.

“I didn’t think so,” she shot back, angrier than she probably should have been. She still had to work with him for the good of the Inquisition.

“I thank you for trying to ease my mind, but I know-”

She didn’t really want to hear it. She had heard every reason in the book why her mere existence was a mistake, and she didn’t want to hear it again, not from his lips.

“Fine, make it a mistake since you’re so keen to,” she said, “but that’s not on my shoulders. I liked it, Cullen.”

“You liked it? Really?” He froze, trousers pulled up but left unbuttoned. “Have you done this before?”

“Sort of. For a little while, I played submissive for a mage outside Ostwick,” she told him. “I didn’t like that much, but last night was-” She lacked the words to describe what had happened between them the night before. “Was great,” she settled. She realized with a flinching force that thinking about the night before would only hurt more later, so she shook her head to clear the memory. “But it doesn’t matter if it was a mistake. Alcohol does that. I won’t hold it against you.” She turned away to search for clothes sturdier than her thin robe. She didn’t want to watch him leave. That would just be too much for her to take right that moment.

“I should still go,” he said, his voice husky and low. “There’s much I have to do.”

“I understand,” was all she could come up with. Cullen got dressed and left without another word, and she did the same. She needed food, and she needed to talk about their second trip to the Hinterlands, now that Fiona would talk with the Inquisition. She sighed deeply when she remembered that Cullen was definitely part of the War Council. She hoped he wouldn’t make things awkward. Hell, she hoped she didn’t make things awkward. Though, once she had the benefit of food in her system and time to really think, she felt much better about everything. She and Cullen hadn’t been particularly close before the night before, but she trusted him as the Inquisition’s Commander.

It helped that he gave a slight bow with his head when she entered the room and approached the table, exactly how he always did before. And he still argued against the decision to side with the mages. It just felt normal, like she hadn’t destroyed anything with their one-night stand.

“I was asked to make a decision and I’ve made it,” Helena finally said. Josephine understood where Helena was coming from, as a mage and as a survivor of the Enclave, but the arguments she had with Cullen had started to border on bickering and Helena didn’t want to hear it anymore. “I’ll be leaving at week’s end with Solas, Varric, and Blackwall. End of discussion.”

They stopped arguing after that, and Helena threw herself into preparation. She studied with Solas and Vivienne in equal measure and worked with Dennet to make sure she could ride the horse he’d assigned her. She hadn’t had much opportunity to ride horses while she was in the Circle, so she was a fair bit rusty. She also spent time with all of the companions she’d gathered in the last few months. She played at learning sword fighting with Cassandra and did the same with Sera and her arrows. She suspected Sera liked the lessons better than Cassandra did, but Helena never complained when Sera showed off and belittled her meager ability to shoot straight. After all, everything Sera said was true, and it was easy enough to laugh it off. Though she always declined the Iron Bull’s attempts to invite her to drink, so she often found herself alone in her cabin most nights. It was uncomfortable but better than waking up with someone else in her bed. She wasn’t entirely sure why she didn’t want to hook up with anyone, but the thought of Cullen’s disappointed frown made her avoid it. That was silly, since she and Cullen hardly spoke outside of the War Table, and he always resolutely called her “Herald” no matter how many times she requested he use her name.

She was alone that night too, only a day or so out from leaving for the Hinterlands. At Josephine’s request, Helena had started a letter to her parents but had no idea what to say to the people who shoved her in a Circle and cut contact when she was eight years old rather than face the shame of having a mage daughter. She frowned as she wondered if it might be acceptable to send a letter to a sibling instead, and made a mental note to ask Josephine later. Just as she was putting away her paper and ink pen, she had a knock at her cottage door. She opened the door, expecting to see one of her various companions looking to drag her to the tavern.

“Oh, Cullen. I wasn’t expecting you. What can I help you with?” she asked, more out of politeness than anything. He wasn’t in his normal armor, just a linen undershirt and threadbare trousers. 

“I- may I come in? There’s something that I wish to speak with you about,” he said. “Before you leave for the Hinterlands.” Wordlessly, Helena stepped aside and let him in. She shut the door behind him and squared her shoulders in preparation for whatever awful thing couldn’t be said around the war table.

“Wine?” she offered, again, out of politeness and for lack of anything else to say.

“No, no thank you,” he replied and then stopped. “You haven’t been drinking, have you?”

“Not yet,” she said. “You don’t have to worry about a repeat of the other night.” Cullen let out an almost strangled noise, and Helena regretted bringing it up. Of course, he didn’t want to think about it. It was a mistake, after all.

“Actually, I wanted to ask you something, and if you were intoxicated at all-” he paused as if he weren’t sure exactly how to end the sentence, but she nodded. She understood.

“So ask away.” Cullen shifted, more nervous than she’d ever thought he was capable of. He hadn’t even once wavered when they tried to seal the Breach, but stumbled over his words terribly now. It seemed almost ridiculous.

“I haven’t been able to think of anything but you since, since the night we had together,” he admitted as fast as he could get the words out.

“Since the mistake,” Helena said, only repeating his words at him. She tried to remain emotionally neutral. It had just been sex, after all, good sex, but just sex. She turned away to pour herself a cup of water. She heard a thud behind her and whirled around to see if Cullen was hurt, to be greeted with the delicious sight of Cullen on his knees in front of her. The way she gushed when she saw him, prone before her, told her that it definitely wasn’t just a drunken fancy. She really liked having him at her mercy.

“Please, I acted too rashly. I never dared to hope you would accept my-my proclivities, let alone understand,” he explained as fast before. “But that you enjoyed it, I, well I-”

She waited, as he got the words out. She could guess what he wanted, but she needed for him to actually ask. She couldn’t, wouldn’t put words in his mouth.

“I hoped that you would agree to do it again,” he said. “On an ongoing basis. It wouldn’t even be a romantic relationship. Just-” He paused, a noise in his throat very telling on his uncertainty.

“Just sex?” she finished for him after a long stretch of silence.

“Sort of? But not even really that. I need to be in control every moment, for my position as Commander and, well, it doesn’t matter why, I suppose. I’m really looking for the feeling of not having to be in control for a bit,” he said. “I hoped you would understand.” Honestly, Helena didn’t understand. She fought and struggled for every scrap of control she had in her life and she didn’t want to let go of any of it, but she wasn’t going to tell him he was wrong. She wasn’t stupid enough to think her point of view was the only true one in the world.

“Is that really what you want, Cullen?”

“Ye-yes,” he admitted. Helena hadn’t heard his voice break before. Not on the battlefield, not while drunk. He always sounded so sure, so composed. He looked at her so expectantly, his heart and his pride in her hands.

“I’m not sure I like ‘mistress’,” she finally said. She almost panicked when disappointment clouded his features and then disappeared behind a mask of neutral emotion.

“I’m sorry, I presumed too much.” He moved to stand, but Helena stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.

“You misunderstand,” she said, “unless the title matters that dearly.”

He looked up at her again and licked his lips, his pupils blown wide. He still looked hesitant, as though he didn’t want to hope again, but he sorely wanted her to be telling the truth. Finally, he shook his head, not once taking his eyes from hers.

“No, not the title,” he admitted, his voice huskier than normal. “What would you prefer? My lady? Maybe even Master?”

“I’m not sure yet,” she replied after a long pause. After a moment she grinned. “I do have a title already built-in. I’m not the biggest fan of it, but from your lips, I think I could enjoy it.”

“Herald of Andraste?” he said, unsure.

“Or Your Worship, if it pleases you. I’ve had some of the locals call me that.” He bit back a groan that she took as a victory.

“Are you sure that’s wise? We need to be professional.”

“Outside of this little game, you could call me Helena like I’ve been asking you to,” she told him. “Or even Lena, if you’re feeling bold.” The last time she’d done this, her “master” had never wanted to not play their game, but that simply wasn’t an option for either of them. Even if it were an option, she liked being able to turn it on and off at will.

“Is that what you desire?” he asked, something like hope in his eyes. “Your Worship.” The words were sweet on his lips and she knew that it was an excellent choice.

“Yes, I think that it is.”

“Thank you, Herald. I- thank you.”

Cullen made no move to get up and Helena pondered what she would do with him. That second round she’d wanted days ago was solidly back on the table and it was a very attractive option. It became more and more attractive as she took in the finely sculpted muscles of his chest and arms, much more easily visible now that he wasn’t buried under a breastplate and pauldrons. He was kneeling now, but he easily had at least eight inches on her height when standing. If he wanted to, he could easily overpower her and take whatever he wanted, and she would certainly be willing, but there was something intoxicating in the knowledge that he still would obey her command despite her inability to physically back up her words.

There was one last thing, tugging at the back of her mind that kept her from following through on that desire. She looked at him, gently guided him so that he looked her in the eyes.

“My one rule, outside of whatever games we play,” she told him, “is that if you are sleeping with me, you aren’t with anyone else. Do you understand?”

“I understand, Herald. I won’t be with anyone but you,” he replied without hesitation.

“You’re free to change your mind at any time, Cullen,” she said. “If you want to be with someone else, or just not play this game anymore, I won’t ever hold it against you. It would just be polite to tell me when you’ve made that decision.”

“I understand, Your Worship,” he said. 

The sound of her title on his lips got under her skin in the best of ways. She tugged at the waistband of her leggings, enjoying the way his eyes followed her hands so intently. She let her leggings fall and stepped out of them, towards him. His eyes fell to her newly exposed skin and settled on her very uncovered cunt. His eyes flicked up to her face and back as he searched for cues.

“Now that that’s taken care of, I think you could show me how thankful you are,” she said. She stepped closer and propped one leg up on the bed to give him better access. His eyes settled on her pussy, right in front of his face.

“As you desire, Herald.” Without a moment of hesitation, he put his tongue to work. Yes, she could definitely get used to this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is the first thing I've published in a while, even longer publishing without a co-writer, and my first foray into the Dragon Age fandom. Of freaking course, it would be a Cullen ship fic that I wouldn't be able to keep to myself. Please let me know if you liked it with a kudos or comment (or both if you want to make me extra happy!) I have more planned, but I definitely want to hear what y'all think.


	2. Save Tonight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter was supposed to have smut, but then the lovely couple fought me on it. The negotiation was important to have, and the smut will return in the next chapter.
> 
> Chapter title is from the song by Eagle-Eye Cherry.

Cullen tried to keep his mind on his work, but it grew harder to focus the longer Helena was gone from Haven. It was amusing, really, that it was just a few weeks out from the last time he saw her, and he already missed having her hold his proverbial leash. The time was good though. It gave him a little clarity and a reminder to discuss a few important things with her before their game, as she called it, continued. Really, he should have insisted they talk earlier, but he had gotten too ahead of himself in having his desires filled. The last time he'd been able to live his fantasies was back in Kirkwall, with a particular whore.

He probably needed to thank Varric for nearly forcing him to go to the tavern that night. Cullen had tried to say no, that there was too much work to do and too little time to do it in. All of it fell on deaf ears.

"I have a feeling, Curly. You need a night out, and at least the whiskey at the tavern here is better than the swill they sell at the Hanged Man." Cullen kind of hated that Varric had drawn a laugh out of him with that dumb remark. He definitely hated that he now solidly owed Varric a favor.

Now, he tried not to be so distracted as he oversaw the new recruits in their training. There had been an influx since Helena had first gone to the Hinterlands. Apparently, she made a habit of helping everyone and anyone who needed it, and it gained her, and the Inquisition, incredibly loyal recruits. He hated the thought she would put herself in danger over flowers for a grave or diving deep into the main apostate camp, but she wouldn't be Helena Trevelyan if she didn't care so much.

He heard her voice before he saw her, coming up the road into Haven. At first, he convinced himself he was just hearing things, like the dozens of times before, but when it became unignorable, he turned his head to see Helena and her entourage, plus another man he didn't recognize. He was a mage if the staff on his back was any indication, and Cullen took it as a victory that his first thought was no longer about the potential dangers of him just existing. Instead, his first thought was that he disliked the way Helena leaned into him. He didn't have the freedom to go over and greet her himself, but the second he was able to, he gathered two rations of dinner and beelined for her cottage.

She opened the door after the first knock and his heart fell out of his chest. Helena's eyes were red-rimmed and puffy like she'd been crying. Part of his brain noted that this new mage, Dorian he'd heard from camp gossip, was not already in her cabin, but he shoved that thought away. It was neither the time nor the place for it.

"I brought dinner, but I can come back later if it's a bad time," he said.

"I'm not really in the mood for sex today," she said. Her shoulders sagged and she looked wobbly on her feet. She didn't look like she'd been drinking, but tired, exhausted, even.

"That's fine. I just wanted to talk anyway. But if that's still too much-"

"No, please come in. Sorry. I just assumed- but that's not fair," she said quickly. She looked at the stew bowls in his hands. "You even brought me food." She stepped aside to let him in and dug out utensils for them to use. She paused at the cabinet where she kept her spirits. "Is this a casual talk or ‘important things’ talk?"

"Important things."

She nodded. "Water it is, then. Wine after," she said as she poured two cups for them. She set them on the table and started in on the nug stew that had become a specialty of Haven's cooking staff.

"Did you want to talk about what happened in Redcliffe?" 

"No." She avoided his eyes, her gaze trained wholly on the bowl of stew in front of her. "I'll have to tomorrow for the council and I don't want to do it twice."

He couldn't fault that logic and nodded. He hated that he couldn’t do anything to help when she was clearly upset. He put a hand over hers and she looked up and gave him a weak but genuine smile.

"So what are these important things you wanted to talk about?"

"Well it's a little late, but I'd like to discuss boundaries with you," he told her. At her questioning look, he furrowed his brow. "The things we like and don't like. The things that are off-limits, or off-limits sometimes. The expectations we have for one another."

"Oh, okay. That makes sense. I guess it would be helpful to know what isn't good for you," she said with a nod. "I'm a little new to, well, this side of it, so I'm not entirely sure what things I like and don't like." That was to be expected, of course. He felt the tiniest twinge of guilt that he had pulled her into this without her knowing much of what she was doing, but she had been very clear that she liked the arrangement. He didn’t force her to do anything. He was pretty sure he'd find himself without balls if he tried to force Helena Trevelyan to do something she didn't want to.

"That's okay. Let's start with picking a safe word," he said. She looked confused again and he had to fight his growing concern. "I thought you said you'd been a submissive before."

"I was," she said. "Not for very long, and, er, Mathias wasn't exactly big on the talking parts."

"That doesn't sound very healthy," he said. Instead of worry growing in his chest, it was the heat of anger. He wasn't angry at Helena, but at the sorry excuse for a man that she had dealt with. It was even worse when she just shrugged, entirely resigned to it.

"He was a powerful mage who didn't practice blood magic. I didn't have to accept his offer, but I was safe until the Conclave."

"Safe? You didn't even have a safe word! How were you supposed to stop things if you were uncomfortable, or worse, hurt?" Once again, Helena just shrugged. Cullen struggled to get his emotions back under control. It wouldn’t help anything if he got upset now.

"Well then, let's pick yours. Do you have something in mind?" she asked.

“In the past, I’ve mostly used a color system, red for stop, yellow for yield, green for good,” he explained.

“Maybe not green for good,” Helena said, her eyes darting to her left hand.

“White, then,” he said. “There are also nonverbal ones, protocols that involve dropping items to signal to stop, that sort of thing, but I don’t care for gags, so I’ve never looked into it.”

A small smirk appeared on her face, and while he was glad she found something to distract herself from whatever horror she’d seen in Redcliffe, he wasn’t entirely sure he trusted whatever caused that mischievous look in her eyes.

“How exactly did you learn about any of this, Cullen? Just by experience?” she asked far too innocently. He narrowed his eyes at her; he still hadn’t figured out her angle, but he was sure there was some point that he couldn’t yet see.

“Some, certainly, but I read a bit on the subject,” he told her. “Once I realized what I wanted in a partner, I wanted to inform myself.” He didn’t see anything wrong with that. It was responsible if anything.

“I can’t imagine the Chantry approves of those kinds of books,” she said and Cullen couldn’t help the heat that rose up his neck. Oh Maker, he hadn’t even thought about that aspect in many, many years. “You weren’t reading books banned by the Chantry as a templar, were you Cullen? That would be awfully naughty, don’t you think?”

If he wasn’t entirely red in the face before, he definitely was now. His cock had instantly reacted to her words, but he couldn’t feed into that. Even if he didn’t care to finish their discussion on limits, which he very much did, Helena had already told him that she wasn’t interested tonight and he would respect that.

“I- That’s not even- Helena, I--” If it were possible, he flushed hotter with her tiny giggle at his flustered attempts to say anything at all.

“I’m sorry, that was mean,” she said. “But you’re so cute when you get all worked up like that.” He let out a strangled noise, and Helena put a hand over her mouth as though that would stop the giggles. “I’m sorry. Right, so no gags. Anything else?” Her giggles actually stopped, for real this time, and she picked up his hand to raise to her lips. She brushed her lips against his knuckles in one last, silent apology. It helped, in a way, Cullen realized as he relaxed again. The flush of heat that had run up his neck receded but his heart still beat too fast for comfort.

"I'm also not big on being restrained. Rope, shackles, anything like that all trigger bad memories. It's easiest to just sidestep the issue altogether," he told her. "And I'd like to avoid breaking skin, leaving lasting marks, that sort of thing."

"Anything else to note?" she asked. He couldn’t swallow his nerves when she looked at him with her big, brown eyes. He'd had this conversation before, but never with anyone who could ruin him with a single word like Helena could.

"I won't deal with most bodily fluids. Blood especially, but pretty much all of it is off the table, except, uh,” he stopped to clear his throat, “ejaculate.”

“So no gags, no restraints, no lasting marks, and no bodily fluids,” she repeated. He nodded as he made sure she hadn’t missed anything. “So what do you like?”

This was the hard part. He had no trouble talking about what he didn’t like. There was no risk in it, since he tried not to define himself by what he wasn’t, but by what he was. He had to go through the terrifying ordeal of being known for any of this to work. 

“Well, I like breasts,” he led with. He watched her face carefully as she took a bite of her stew, but she didn’t look ready to laugh at him, or worse. “And humiliation,” he added. She eyed him with interest, as though she liked the idea. He took a chance and a deep breath. “And, um, anal play.” He worried when her eyebrows went up and she shook her head.

“That’s off the table for me. I don’t care for the sensation,” she told him. Once again, heat rose up his neck, though less violently than before.

“I actually meant, um, with me, uh, receiving.” Helena’s eyes widened and her face turned an adorable shade of pink. So far, Helena had remained collected, and he liked seeing his unshakeable Herald lose her cool for him.

“Oh, well, I suppose that could be arranged,” she said. He couldn’t help but smile. He liked the good mood that Helena had found for herself, even if it was a mood for a moment. He still had to worry that she wouldn’t react well to the next one. Experience told him that she would react just fine, even if she wasn’t interested in it, but he couldn’t stop the worry.

“I also, uh, like impact play.” He knew he was being a coward, using pretty titles as if that would change the fact he liked being hit. Her eyebrows went up, but she didn’t look disgusted with him. He was glad he didn’t have to explain it further.

“Something you have a lot of experience with?” she asked. Her tongue darted out to wet her lower lip and Cullen had to force himself to look away.

“Yeah, I have, uh, some experience. I prefer floggers to whips or canes.” He chanced a glance at her face. Another mischievous smile had settled on her lips. Her teeth caught her lower lip as she looked at him with raw hunger. Unlike her last little troublemaker smile, it didn’t worry him; it excited him. He had to force himself to look away again.

“Do you have toys or will we need to acquire things before we play next?”

“I had to leave most of my belongings in Kirkwall when I left,” he admitted. “But the things aren’t necessary. Hands work just fine. Or nothing. Just the threat of it can be enough of a tool.” Her little mischievous smile changed into a wide, predatory grin that excited and chilled him at once.

“Oh, I won’t threaten,” she said. She sounded so sure, so confident. Maker, it was arousing. It was exactly what he wanted and he didn’t have it in him to stop her. “If this is what you want, then you’ll get it but I won’t let you hide behind the facade of play. I won’t deal in non-consent, even as play.”

He couldn’t stop the furious heat of a blush spread up his neck and onto his face. He couldn’t even form words. He was sure he made some kind of noise, but he wouldn’t be able to say what.

“You understand, don’t you Cullen? If I even think you’re not interested, I won’t do it. So you better be,” she paused to lick her bottom lip again, “enthusiastic if you want it.”

His mouth felt too dry and it was hard to think clearly, but he had to try. Helena’s low, husky tone had his body reacting but he had to try to keep a calm head. It was so difficult, but he had to get through everything. He realized he’d entirely forgotten about his dinner and tried to focus his attention on the bowl in front of him. It didn’t really help, but he could at least have a moment to calm himself.

“On that subject,” she continued, “I won’t objectify you.”

“Oh?”

“The mage I lived with for a bit, he tried to make me call myself ‘this one’ to, I don’t know, separate me from who I am,” she explained. “If I’m going to control you, I want to control _you_ , Cullen. If I wanted an object for a sex partner, I’d get a dildo.”

He didn’t know what to say. He had been with a few women in a similar sense, but he didn’t have any experience with those women having any care for him as a person. That had been fine, even a feature of the relationships, but he realized he desperately wanted her, Helena, to care about him.

“Any other things you wanted to talk about?” she asked. She put her hand on his again and drew her thumb over his knuckles. He hadn’t been looking forward to this part. It was the least intensive topic, though important. He wasn’t worried about talking about it; he was worried at how his anger would definitely flare if Helena revealed her past partner didn’t provide aftercare for her.

“Just aftercare details,” he told her. He watched her carefully, but confusion didn’t spread over her face. In fact, her face lit up.

“Oh, right, definitely. Tell me what works best for you,” she said. That helped. He wanted her to be safe, as much as that was possible with the current circumstances.

“Physical contact helps, blankets too,” he told her. “I also like, uh, soft things.” He didn’t really expect her to laugh, not with everything they’d already talked about, but he was always nervous telling anyone that he, big, strong, ex-Templar Commander, was comforted by stuffed animals and soft blankets. It didn’t make him less of a man, but he spent too long amongst the Templar order to feel comfortable showing such a weakness.

“You should finish your dinner, Cullen,” she said. It snapped him out of his train of thought as he realized he’d barely touched his food while Helena had already finished hers. “You really need to take care of yourself.” He gave her a laugh and shook his head.

“Or what? You'll punish me?" he teased. She gave him that predatory smile and he swallowed hard. He looked down at his stew again to get a hold of himself.

"Just finish your dinner," she said as she got up from her seat at the table. He made an attempt to actually eat, but he watched her curiously as she dug through a cupboard with a frown tugged at her lips. "I know it was around here--" she whispered to herself as she opened a drawer and poked through that too. Eventually, a wide smile spread across her face. "Ah! Found it!"

She sat back and pulled out a dark grey mass that she unfolded to reveal a large blanket. She came closer and held it out.

"Here, feel," she told him and he reached out with a free hand. The blanket was perhaps the softest one he'd felt since arriving in Haven. "One of the locals made it for me. I'm not really a blanket person, but it seemed rude not to accept it. I thought of it for you, though."

He eventually simply put his spoon down. He was tired, after a long day, and after being so vulnerable for her. Helena eyed the bowl when he announced he was done, but didn’t say anything. He was sure she'd make sure he got a decent breakfast in the morning. He lingered at the table for a long moment. He didn't want to leave just yet, but he didn’t really have a reason to stay. He'd gone through everything he could think of when it came to boundaries.

"Up for that glass of wine now?" she asked as she put their bowls on a counter near the door.

"I'm not sure that's a great idea, with our track record." It was her turn to laugh, a surprised melodious thing that made him want to make her laugh again.

"If you don't want to, that's fine," she told him, "but I still don't want to have sex. It's just wine, and maybe cuddles if you'd like to stay the night."

He knew it was unwise. Leliana would chastise them for not focusing on the necessary tasks at hand. Josephine would probably take his balls if she thought he was mistreating the Herald, and Cassandra would have a sword back at Helena’s throat if she knew half of what they planned to do together. He watched as Helena spread the blanket she'd basically declared as his on her bed, and realized he didn't care what anyone else thought.

"I'd like that very much, Your Worship," he said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this isn't entirely an accurate depiction of boundary negotiations. They usually take a bunch of time in fiddly details, and the fact that they have a conversation like it is was important to me for the healthy part of healthy BDSM. Assume they do talk some outside of the sexy times to fine-tune details. Also, Cullen is already attached. I didn't plan for it to be *that* matchstick with the emotions, but I can't help myself.


End file.
